


The Campaign for Aevrienne

by Seraphym



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aevrienne is Broken Okay, Broken wing, Dom/sub, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, It’s Complicated, Mild Gore, Mildly Dubious Consent, Reverse BDSM?, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Slow Burn, Violent Sex, i’m a terrible person, mild choking, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:06:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seraphym/pseuds/Seraphym
Summary: If someone had set out to find the least suitable, least talented, and most broken person in all of Thedas to survive the Conclave explosion and lead the Inquisition to save the world, they would have returned with Aevrienne Trevelyan.Awkward, impossibly sheltered, untrained in anything remotely akin to battle or strategy, and minimally skilled as a mage, Aevrienne was already reeling from years of abuse and trauma when she’d been torn from the only life she’d ever known and sent to the Conclave.That would have all been bad enough on its own.“Something is wrong with her,” The Iron Bull said.“Come now, Bull,” snapped Cullen irritably. “I hardly think disparaging her is going to help matters- ,”“Not what I mean, Commander,” Bull shook his head slowly. “I know you’ve seen the bruises.”Cullen’s sigh was a deep, worried one. “She’s hurting herself, I… I know.”“Cullen. No.”Cullen looked up, perplexed.“It’s worse than that.” Bull’s voice was low. “It’s much, much worse.”
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Iron Bull, Iron Bull/Female Trevelyan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	1. Diametrics

**Author's Note:**

> I am totally writing this on the fly... first time ever just writing and posting! I’m tired of writing for years and never having anything solid enough to post (in my own opinion). This is going to be a few chapters long. I’ll try to update it once a week. Please check the tags for each chapter as well as the overall work. Especially if you have triggers. 
> 
> This will NOT be my best work. I’m sorry! I had this idea a few days ago and then [@peeter-pansexual](http://peeter-pansexual.tumblr.com) said they’d read it and their tags were so fun that here we are!

The Iron Bull came up behind the Inquisitor at the rough-hewn bar in the Herald’s Rest. Standing much closer than necessary, he reached easily over her shoulder and set two tankards down with a thud. 

“Hey, boss,” he said as she turned in sudden nervousness. 

His smile reminded her of low light and stillness in a bedroom waiting for lovers. His gaze swept her briefly, coming back up and pausing on her mouth for a beat before meeting her eyes. 

“Bull,” she croaked. She quickly cleared her throat and tossed her hair back from her face as a blush started up her neck. “Iron Bull.”

Bull’s smile widened. He didn’t need to draw on a lifetime of Ben Hassrath training to pick up on the mess of unconscious signals the Inquisitor was sending. It was pretty obvious he would need to tread lightly with this one. 

Aevrienne crossed her arms as if she were chilly. “Having a good night?”

“Not bad, boss. About two of _those_ ,” he tipped a horn toward the full and foaming tankards that had appeared at her elbow, “away from a really good night.” 

Her eyes crinkled at the corners and she looked like she was about to make a quip when one of the bustier red-headed kitchen girls of Skyhold rounded the bar with a tray and greeted him gaily. Bull broke eye contact for a brief moment to acknowledge her, and swore inwardly as he saw Aevrienne’s expression flatten.

“How about you, boss? How many of these you think’d make your night a good one?” 

Aevrienne turned to leave and her tone was slightly stiff as she said over her shoulder, “Another time, Bull. Enjoy your night.” 

Bull watched her as she headed to the door, slipping easily and quickly through the crowded tavern. Deep in thought, he raised his tankard and took a long drink.

_Very_ lightly.

——///——

The morning light streamed through the stained glass of the windows in her quarters. Aevrienne slitted her eyes just enough to confirm what she already suspected: it was later than it was supposed to be. Again. The Inquisition ran like a well-oiled machine for the most part, and she felt deeply guilty about the fact she struggled to get up as early as most of Skyhold did.

She swung her legs off the bed, touched her toes to the floor, and just sat for a moment. Waking up always felt like coming out of a coma. It wouldn’t be so bad, she knew, if she could ever get to sleep before the small hours… hours that were more morning than night. She scrubbed at her face viciously and sighed. There was just never enough time to process it all. The war raging between the mages and the Chantry, the Breach – not to mention the terrible rifts that tore open the air and the ground and spat demons, and the ultimate threat to the entire world that Corypheus presented. Then there was the Inquisition itself with all its demands and responsibilities. The myriad relationships within. So many needs to fill, strategies to map out, information to learn. 

It was just so _much_. And she was used to being alone with her thoughts for most of the day. There might have been a time when she enjoyed the company of others… brief memories flickered to life in a forbidden part of her mind before she shook her head and dispelled them. But that been before _him_. Before she’d learned how much of a fool she was. How much of a joke. 

The sunbeams had shifted almost imperceptibly as she ruminated, and now a particular one strengthened by the late hour of the morning slanted boldly over Aevrienne’s strawberry blonde hair and mild green eyes. If anyone had been looking, they might have noticed the lines beginning to deepen by the corners of her eyes and mouth. They might have noticed a shimmer of something in her eyes awfully similar to tears. 

Thank the Maker no one looked anymore. Aevrienne stood up, her thoughts banished and nothing but order, discipline, and control remaining. She would have to be heavy-handed with herself if she – if any of them – were going to survive this. 

_Very_ heavy-handed.


	2. Hunger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Iron Bull wonders if perhaps he dismissed the Inquisitor too hastily at Haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh lord. It’s 3:54 AM. I have not even re-read this to see if it’s any good, but I really enjoyed writing it. Aevrienne struggles, and The Iron Bull notices. Now Bull is starting to think about things, and we all know where that goes!
> 
> I’ll read this in the morning - well, later in the morning - and if it’s crap I’ll delete it and try again.

Breakfast had long been cleared away by the time Aevrienne was fit to show herself in Skyhold’s main hall. She briefly considered skipping what was becoming her all-too-routine visit to the kitchens lest she wear out her welcome with the cook. A twisting growl in her stomach quickly put paid to that idea, however, and her stride lengthened as she made her way there, hoping against hope no one needed to talk to her just yet. Ugh. She was _so_ not a morning person. 

She’d no sooner made her wish than she caught a glimpse of The Iron Bull heading towards the huge doors. He had his arm wrapped around the neck of a half-protesting, half-laughing Krem. Aevrienne couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could well imagine. The camaraderie of the Chargers made her wistful. She paused at the door of the kitchens for just a second, until he and Krem had disappeared. Thankfully, a sudden pang of hunger replaced any other kind of feelings rather effectively. Aevrienne took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Food first. Then work. Lots of work. 

—///—

“What’s the matter, Krem? Embarrassed to be seen hugging your big ol’ _Dad?_ Surely not!” Bull had his massive arm around Krem’s neck and shoulders, barely registering the man’s struggles to escape. To be fair, Krem might have been more effective if he wasn’t also breathless from trying not to laugh.

“Gerroff! Bull! I’m not embarrassed, I just can’t breathe this close to your… gah!” Krem almost choked as Bull squeezed his arm tighter. “…armpit!” Krem managed to wheeze out the wisecrack. He staggered a few feet as Bull suddenly threw back his head and guffawed, releasing him suddenly and thwacking him solidly between the shoulders. 

“Alright, Krem… I’ll let the Dad comment go this time.” Bull was still grinning. “But you’ll want to work on that upper body strength before you make that crack again!”

Krem was already headed to the training ring. He bestowed a sarcastic thumbs-up upon Bull and said, “Yeah boss, I hear you! Loud and clear.”

The Iron Bull grinned after him. He would never admit to having favourites among his Chargers, but if he had one, it would be Krem. The damned little ‘Vint hit all Bull’s soft spots: he was scrappy, he was loyal, he had a smart mouth, and he was an excellent sport no matter how much ribbing went on between them. 

He had a lot in common with the Inquisitor, actually. Bull scritched his nails through the stubble on his chin as his thoughts turned toward Aevrienne. They’d been doing that more and more lately. In Haven, she had peppered him with questions, listening thoughtfully to his answers. She was curious, which was even more important than being bright. But there were times… there were a _few_ times when he could have sworn she was trying to flirt with him. 

He’d been polite to her at the time. Nothing more, nothing less. Better to wait, watch, listen. He hadn’t been altogether sure he would actually take her up on it even if she was offering. For all her admirable qualities - and she had many - she was dragging a broken wing. It wasn’t obvious to anyone else. Bull’s intense awareness and particular skills instilled by the Ben-Hassrath allowed him to pick up on things most people missed. Things people thought they were good at hiding. 

Bull looked back at Skyhold’s massive main building where, he knew, Aevrienne would be trying to unobtrusively scarf down some food while avoiding people as much as she could until she felt ready to face the day for real. He’d seen her come out of her quarters. She’d had another rough night. He knew without being told that she didn’t sleep well. And that wasn’t good for someone already carrying the weight of the salvation of the entire world on her shoulders. 

Not good at all. 

She might not have a clue what she was messing with when she flirted with him. But. Boss just might be in need of the medicine he had to offer after all. He started towards the training ring, craving the repetition and physical pain of drills. It helped him think, and he needed to think.

—///—

Imminent starvation averted for the time being, Aevrienne quietly slipped her plate into the hot, sudsy dishwater a maid was elbow-deep in. She whispered her thanks to the smiling girl – Pansy, she thought her name was - and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand as she emerged from the back door onto the battlements. It was her custom to go find Cullen in his office where he gave her a brief rundown of the day’s agenda and then walked with her to the War Table. Cullen understood things, Aevrienne had discovered early on. Things that were often too difficult to explain. Things like dreams with teeth and being a stranger in your own skin.

A deep, throaty shout from below drew her attention. She looked, and then cursed, wishing she hadn’t. It was getting harder and harder to ignore the consistent thud her pulse suddenly made in her ears when she looked at The Iron Bull. The hot little wave up the back of her neck when his eye met hers unexpectedly. Bull suddenly looked up at her, almost as if he sensed her thoughts. Their gazes locked and heat swept through her. _Like that. Fuck._

Taking advantage of Bull’s momentary distraction, Skinner bent low and rushed him, colliding with a solid thunk that sent Bull sprawling on his back in the dust. Aevrienne gasped and covered her mouth, stifling a giggle as a collective howl rose up from the rest of the Chargers. Skinner belly-laughed even as she rubbed her shoulder, which she knew would be stiff for a few days at least. 

“Enjoy that did you, city elf?” Bull feigned a peeved air. Skinner’s vigorous nod set fresh ripples of laughter through the group. “Good! It’s the only time you’ll ever do it!” Then dropped his head back on the ground, pretending to be out of breath, much to the delight of his audience. 

Aevrienne was still hiding her smile when Bull looked up at her. He made sure their eyes met, and then he gave her a slow, cheeky wink. “Morning, Boss!”

Aevrienne started, then cursed her visible reaction, saluting the group awkwardly as she all but ran towards Cullen’s door. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck_ echoed in her head with every footfall. But not even the clutch of embarrassment could erase the glow inside her as that slow wink replayed itself in her mind’s eye over and over and over again.


	3. Chided by Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While no one in her inner circle would have said she was a natural leader, most didn’t think Aevrienne was necessarily incompetent. A little shy, perhaps... undisciplined, certainly... but not completely inadequate. Cullen would say that she just needed more time. 
> 
> It’s The Iron Bull who gauges the depth of - and the reason behind - some of Aevrienne’s struggles in her role as Inquisitor. At least, he has a hunch. He just needs to test his theory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally going to be a much longer chapter, but I decided to keep it short for two reasons: both the previous chapters are on the shorter side, and the latter part of it is terrible, nasty smut. I put it in its own chapter because I wanted to give people the chance to skip it because it’s terrible. 
> 
> If you do decide to read the next chapter, please read the tags.

Aevrienne didn’t know if she’d ever seen another place where the light was quite like this. It beamed rich and fat through windows, bloomed in rooms that one would have thought would be dark, lay in pools on the floors, and dappled the grounds and courtyards of Skyhold. There was a colour to it… a depth. She’d mentioned it to Solas once, that it must be good for painting. He’d given her one of his pleased, gentle smiles as he agreed, “Yes, my friend. I have particularly enjoyed the light here. It warms me to hear you speak of it so.”

But too, the light chided her. Too often told her that it was the wrong time for her to be doing whatever she was doing. Right now, for instance, it was gathering itself like skirts, pulling back to let the shadows bleed from the corners and seep into the ground. It would be night soon, but Aevrienne felt like she had barely started on the day. Time was a slippery thing for her, and the events and pace of life in the Inquisition had only heightened the persistent feeling Aevrienne had of being out of step. Thankfully, Josephine’s patient reminders of plans agreed to and meetings arranged often saved-

Meetings… Aevrienne sat up, brow furrowed. She’d been curled up in front of the fire in Josie’s alcove office. She much preferred to disappear into her quarters when the noise and activity around her became too much, but she knew she needed to remain accessible and this was the best way to hide in plain sight. 

Ever attentive, Josephine looked up from her writing. “Hmm? Something the matter?”

“I’m… I’m not sure…” Aevrienne chewed her lip, embarrassed. “Were there any other engagements planned for me today?”

Josephine pursed her lips, refreshing her quill’s ink as she thought. “I don’t believe we- oh!” She pointed the quill at the Inquisitor in a trademark gesture. “You mentioned Bull wanted to see you when you had a moment. Something he wanted to show you?”

Aevrienne shot up from the couch. “Maker’s ballsa-…” she broke off the epithet at the sight of Josie’s raised eyebrow. “I forgot completely. Please excuse me,” she called over her shoulder and was out the door, letting it swing behind her. 

“But of course,” Josephine demurred at the empty room and returned to her writing with a smile. 

Moments later, Aevrienne caught up with The Iron Bull, who was already standing outside The Herald’s Rest. He seemed engrossed in studying Cassandra’s repeated attacks on the striking dummy a few yards away. She didn’t think he noticed her coming, but just as she reached him, he turned to her and spoke first. 

“Evening, Boss.”

The Iron Bull’s smile goes all the way through him, she thought. His eye, his voice, his whole stance. The contrast between that through-and-through smile and his battle-scarred, ferocious face framed by massive horns was captivating. It mesmerized her. She was socially clumsy at the best of times, but Iron Bull’s protean nature kept her so off-kilter she was flat out artless: 

“What did you want me to come see?” she blurted. 

Bull’s smile widened and she felt the hot creep of embarrassment begin at the base of her neck. 

“Here, come on. I’ll show you,” Bull beckoned her to follow him and she obliged, grateful to be moving right along. They went into the Herald’s Rest, where Bull handed her a uniform. It was an Inquisition soldier’s uniform, she realized. And it had seen better — far cleaner — days. 

“Change in Sera’s room. Give the girl a thrill,” Bull winked at her and flopped down into his customary chair. Aevrienne all but gaped at him. 

“Go.” Bull made a shooing motion at her with one of those massive hands. “It’ll be worth your time. I promise,” he added when she didn’t move right away. 

Despite her misgivings about wearing the grimy clothes, she realized she genuinely trusted Bull and was even a little curious about what he was going to show her that required she look like a soldier fresh from the battlefield. Sera was indeed thrilled and teased her mercilessly… but she also helped fasten the buckles without being asked and tugged Aevrienne’s long hair free of the tunic with an unexpected gentleness. Aevrienne felt a sudden rush of sympathetic warmth for the girl and impulsively kissed her cheek. 

“Blimey! What’s _that_ about?” Sera pretended to wipe her cheek, but she was giggling. Aevrienne giggled, too. 

“Just… thank you. For helping. And I… I have boundary issues. And thank you,” she crossed her eyes at Sera and started to head back down to The Iron Bull. 

Sera’s pealing cackle drifted after her. “Those are my favourite issues for people to have!”  


Aevrienne was still smiling when she reappeared in front of Bull. He stood slowly, deliberately, making sure the full impact of his height was felt. “Now that’s what I like to see.”

“Women in grimy soldier’s gear?” Puzzled, she looked down at herself, spreading her arms out. 

“No,” Bull said. He paused. Waited until she looked back at up at him. “You. Smiling.”

Something hot and unnamed punched through her gut and her mind went blank. 

_Sometimes she went hours without thinking about him. Those were good hours. Free to see what was actually in front of her instead of his face in her mind’s eye. Free from the relentless, hollow ache that lived just under her breastbone where her heart used to be. Free to breathe without consciously reminding herself to. In… out… again… without a single reason why._

_Sometimes she stared into the fire and lost hours to the memories of him. Of them. Of the sphere they’d created for themselves – a shared life and world in the space between their separate lives and worlds. Their long-running inside jokes and impossibly easy intimacy. The perfection of the way they fit together; mind, body, soul. The way it felt like home when he said he loved her. The dreams she’d had for them, for a future… Maker, the dreams. But no matter how sweet those memories were, they always led her into the swamp of the memories that came next. The betrayal. The truth. The emptiness. The loss._

_And other times, a single word, a sudden drifting scent, the catch of light in someone’s eye as they laughed, and pain crashed over her like a wave; left her stunned and gasping and desperate to find solid ground again. And for hours after, his name was a chant underneath every thought she had._

“Boss. Boss! _BOSS!_ ” Bull’s voice sounded like it was travelling from a long way away. Aevrienne clung to it, hung on it. Analyzed the timbre and colour of it, memorized it with each word that strained to reach her ears through the muted roaring in her mind. 

The Iron Bull had seen this kind of thing before, but not in soft humans raised in walled towers. He’d seen it on the faces of men and women he’d fought with in Seheron… and a time or two in human soldiers as well, especially since the start of the war between the mages and the templars. But while the Inquisitor had certainly seen some horrors since being thrust into a harsh and demanding role, the woman he’d gotten to know over the last months wasn’t _exactly_ the fainting heroine type. So this - this was coming from somewhere else. A mystery. But a mystery for another day. Bull laid a large hand on her shoulder and leaned in close, his lips next to Aevrienne’s ear. 

“ _Boss_. Enough.”

Aevrienne gasped and her head whipped around to look at him. She would have staggered but for the steadying grip on her shoulder. 

“Welcome back,” Bull said cheerily. He straightened and smiled reassuringly. 

“Bull, I…” Aevrienne cast about for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t invite questions. But Bull was already moving towards the door, motioning over his shoulder for her to follow. Surprised and relieved, she hurried after him. 

The light had slipped behind the high walls while they were inside. Twilight and shadow leached the colour out of Skyhold’s grounds. Aevrienne noticed how The Iron Bull’s grey skin nearly matched the stonework around them as they made their way through the courtyard. Was his skin as hard as it looked? Cool to the touch? Or would it be warm under her fingers? 

Lost in thought, she nearly ran into him when he suddenly slowed and introduced himself to a pair of Inquisition soldiers. What was he doing? What was this? She groaned inwardly. Oh, she _hated_ talking to new people.

Bull took a seat and was already talking to them, having made no mention of her, let alone an introduction. She slid gingerly onto the seat next to him. She heard the woman ask who she was and braced herself. But Bull’s tankard only paused on its way to his mouth as he barely glanced at her, looking for all the world as though he’d nearly forgotten she was there. 

“This is Grim,” he said, and took a swig. He wiped his mouth and dismissed any further interest in her with a casual, “She doesn’t talk much.”

The pair of soldiers regarded her briefly and she ventured a short grunt of acknowledgement. Amazed, she watched as their attention immediately shifted back to Iron Bull, who was asking them questions like where were they from and why did they join the Inquisition. Aevrienne listened, fascinated, as they shared their hopes and recounted stories of how they’d come to be here. No game-playing or orchestrations… no hidden motives or idle curiosity. In a few simple sentences, real people shared who they were and what mattered to them. Aevrienne felt her exhaustion slip from her shoulders as easily as unclasping a cloak. She had a hundred more questions and suddenly, she felt she like she could talk with them all night. 

Beside her, Bull felt the change in her energy. Hunch verified, and mission accomplished. He stood up and thanked their new friends for the drink, hiding his amusement at the obvious disappointment on Aevrienne’s face. Walking back to the Herald’s Rest, Bull could feel her gaze boring into his back. 

“Okay, Boss. I can literally hear the questions tumbling around in that head of yours,” he turned, laughing. 

“Then talk!” she blurted with an exaggerated after-you gesture. 

Amusement softened his face as he explained. “I know every soldier under my command. You don’t have that option… but a few faces might help.”

“So you were trying to make friends? Why would you make it sound like you didn’t like the Inquisition, then?” Genuine confusion knotted her brow, and Bull felt some sudden, strange warmth for her, for the way she worked so hard to understand what he wanted to teach her. 

“Ah, Boss. I wasn’t trying to make friends, exactly. I wanted to make a connection. Actually, not quite. I wanted _you_ to make a connection. Connections come from truth, and people don’t always tell the truth when you’re being polite. You’ve gotta poke them a bit to get deeper.”

“But I didn’t say anything… Should I have? I thought….” Aevrienne faltered and Bull stepped closer. She had to tilt her head back to look up at him.

“You thought to listen, and it was the right decision. I wanted you to make the connection for yourself. I had a hunch…” Bull paused. 

Aevrienne waited, watching his face. 

Damn. She really was an excellent listener. She had no idea of the depth of her potential as the leader of the Inquisition, let alone as a human being. 

“I had a hunch that crowds and groups of nameless, faceless people don’t mean much to you. I don’t mean they don’t _matter_ to you, I mean they don’t register. When something doesn’t register, you can’t relate to it. Trying to make decisions about something you can’t relate to is draining. Something the size of the Inquisition? It’s exhausting you.”

As Bull spoke, Aevrienne’s eyes glittered in the moonlight as her fierce gaze held his. He was touching on something, he knew. Something she may not have yet realized herself. 

“Tanner and Mira? They register. You could relate to them. You connected with them. And now when you think of the Inquisition, you can think of them… all of them. The same way you think of each of us – your companions and the Inner Circle – as individuals _and_ a whole.” 

Aevrienne’s mouth dropped open slightly as understanding dawned. How could she have not known this about herself? It explained so much… and it suddenly made her feel hopeful that she could do this thing after all. She thought about the perpetually crackling, writhing mark on her hand. Maybe they weren’t doomed after all. 

Bull waited. Her thoughts were written as plain as day on her face, but he left her the room to speak them if she chose. 

“Bull. This was good,” she broke off. “I struggle… with things…”

 _That_ was an understatement. Bull thought of her late mornings after obviously sleepless nights, her reticence with people who were nothing but kind to her… the way she had frozen in the tavern a few hours ago. Still, he waited. She didn’t look done. 

“That you saw that, and thought of a way to help me… I don’t know how to say what it means to me, but I can thank you, at least,” she sighed. And let her gaze drop slowly, deliberately surveying his shoulders and massive chest. She looked back up at him and he carefully kept his face expressionless. “Turns out you’re not just a pretty face, huh?” There was humour in her tone, but Bull heard the suggestion beneath it. 

_Mmm-hmm._

“Anytime, Boss. You’ve got a good army coming along. Remember that. No matter what comes next, you’re not doing this alone,” Bull spoke earnestly. Then he gave her a two-fingered salute, his eye twinkling when she looked abashed, clearly remembering the other morning. “And now, it’s time for me to get back to the boys and my ale. Goodnight, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder to please read the tags before venturing to the next chapter. I will post a TL;DR at the end of the next chapter for those who do not wish to have to bleach their eyes.


	4. Covered by Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Despite Bull’s parting words, she felt alone. Very alone. 
> 
> The emptiness started at the edges of herself, eating away at them, and the threat of it was terrifying.”
> 
> For Aevrienne, stopping the spiral of emptiness and panic that threatens to consume her sometimes is paramount. Unfortunately for Aevrienne, she only knows one way to do it. 
> 
> It’s not good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **PLEASE READ THE TAGS**
> 
> Aevrienne is a lot more broken than I thought. 
> 
> This scene _is_ important to the story, especially for understanding just how fucked up Aevrienne is, but I will add a TL;DR to the end notes for those who would rather skip the graphic details. 
> 
> You should probably skip the details. 
> 
> This was hard to write and I felt a little sick afterwards. But we needed to see what Bull’s going to have to deal with, eventually.

Aevrienne watched The Iron Bull walk away. She cursed herself for the display she’d just made in front of him. She knew he wasn’t interested in her. Why couldn’t she just drop it? Why couldn’t she _ever_ just drop it?

Her head dropped in shame. Because she _burned_. Because her body burned with need. A constant, low-level need craving release. Relief from her pain. Oblivion to her thoughts. It smouldered, always, until eventually flames licked at her, leaping higher until its demand drove her to sate it. Like tonight. 

Despite Bull’s parting words, she _felt_ alone. Very alone. 

The emptiness started at the edges of herself, eating away at them, and the threat of it was terrifying. 

Aevrienne hugged her arms around herself tightly. She realized she was still wearing the grubby Inquisition uniform she’d changed into earlier. Suddenly calm, she turned and made her way down the stone steps to the courtyard for the second time that night. 

She scanned the faces of the soldiers around the large fire as she approached it. He had been there a few moments ago… a brutish looking fellow who’d made sure she saw him leering at her… ah. There. She saw him. She moved nearer, arms still wrapped around her middle as though she could keep herself together that way. The man looked up. Spotting her, a cruel smirk spread across his face. She didn’t look away.

He didn’t bother greeting her. Simply stood up and waited until she moved towards him. He led her into the pitch black shadows behind the barn. Took her to the far end, where not even the moonlight could give away their presence with a stray glint. Turning, he grabbed Aevrienne by the throat and shoved her against the barn wall, hard enough to knock her breath from her. He held her there in silence for a beat. When she made absolutely no protest, he chuckled, low and mean. 

“I _knew_ you wanted it, you little bitch,” he snarled into her ear. 

His breath, heavy with ale, huffed against the side of her neck. The soldier gripped her throat even harder before releasing her to free himself from his breeches. She drew in a silent breath through her open mouth, as she had been taught long ago. He roughly yanked at her breeches next. Her small clothes came away with them, and he pushed them a short way down her thighs. Then his lips were back at her ear.

“Front or back?” The snarl ended with a sharp nip. Aevrienne bit back her gasp of pain. 

She said nothing. She wasn’t here to make choices. 

Her head snapped back as he wrenched her away from the wall and down onto her knees. “Fuck that. I’ll take you like the _filthy_ bitch you are.”

She stifled a cry as one of her knees collided with the edge of a stone. Fear arrowed through her at the reality of the chilly air on her exposed body. The soldier was behind her immediately and she heard his shuddering exhale as he found her entrance. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. This was the only way. The only option was no options. He buried himself in her in a single, punishing thrust, and she hung her head. 

He used her viciously. His bruising thrusts hammered home again and again while she held as still as she could. She could tell he wanted to hit her, but they couldn’t risk the sound of blows attracting attention. Frustrated, he alternated between painful jerks of her hair and a choking grip on her throat. He made no move towards her clit. Good. No distractions. 

His battering grew more painful as he increased his pace, ragged grunts escaping at times. She hadn’t thought he would last long. Belatedly, she remembered he’d been drinking a fair amount. It hadn’t done anything to soften his assault – the jarring was setting off a deep cramping in her womb – but merely served to prolong it. Suddenly, the soldier pushed on her back between her shoulders, shoving her upper body flat against the ground. The position angled her pelvis up towards him and he seated himself so deeply her entire core clenched in agony. She strangled her own screams in her throat and clawed at the ground beside her. 

“Yes,” the soldier hissed, frantically pumping at this brutal angle. “Yes, you little _bitch_ in heat. Fuck!” His gasps quickened. “Taking it… on your fucking knees… take it… _uunngghhh_ ,” he jerked inside her violently, spasmed against her battered womb as his cum spewed into her. She covered her face with her hands, smelled black earth and a faint tang of blood from torn nails. The final humiliation. Forcing her body to accept his spend. Letting it fill her knowing she would have to clean it off herself later, a reminder of what she was.

He moved a few more times, pressing deep until he was finished. Then pulled roughly from her and stumbled a couple of feet to flop onto some hay bales, panting. After a moment, she stood slowly, carefully, her abused body protesting. Winced as she grasped her breeches and started to tug them up. 

“What are you doing,” he sneered. The unexpected voice in the dark startled her and she froze. 

“We’re done. I’m going to my r-… my tent,” she managed a hoarse whisper. 

His long, lewd chuckle turned her blood to ice. 

“ _I’m_ not done. Round two starts in a few minutes. Sooner, if that mouth of yours is any good. Kneel.” 

She went blank at the crude command. Felt herself slide further away. Her body took over and she did as she was told. He grabbed her hair and tugged her head towards his lap. 

“You can do yourself while you suck me,” he offered, then chuckled. “Or not.” And leaned back lazily. 

Woodenly, she bent and pulled him into her mouth. Unbelievably, he was already thickening. So he didn’t exaggerate, then. It would be a long night. Heedless of anything beyond the growing blankness in her mind inviting her into blessed stillness, she wiped her fingers on her pants and slipped them between her legs. Pushed them into her sore opening, slick from the nameless man’s reaming, hissing through her nose. She slid him along her tongue in a long, drawing suck and swallowed the last few dregs of his semen as she pushed into herself harder, already climbing swiftly.

Here then, was relief. 

_Relief._

She surrendered.

To the darkness around her covering the things being done to her, and to the darkness within her, blotting out every last thought and emotion.

It was a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TL;DR** : Aevrienne is not having the best day, mental health wise. After Bull says goodnight, she is filled with self-loathing and emptiness. Recognizing the beginning of a spiral, she seeks out the only remedy she has been able to discover: giving herself over to someone for dark, violent sex. The good news is that it works. The bad news is... well, the whole fucking thing is bad news.


	5. Calm Comes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morning comes, and with it, calm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Calm comes  
> We're sleeping in the sun  
> Deep in the sun  
> Dark in the sun”
> 
>  _Welcome to Feeling_  
>  from Love Letter for Fire, written by Sam Beam and Jesca Hoop  
> 

_Orneaux._

_Orneaux with his sudden, rare smiles._

_Orneaux with those deep hazel eyes fringed with silky lashes… the way they felt on her skin. The ghost-echoes of kisses lain by his lips… barest brushes like the wings of breakable things against her skin even as his lips clung and his teeth nipped._

_Orneaux, who could make her laugh from so deep in her belly that she felt it boom through her as well as out… surprising herself with the sound of it._

_Orneaux, who could say ‘I love you’ in a thousand different ways, each one more magnificent and profound than the one before._

_Orneaux, whose voice was home._

_Orneaux …_

_Who’d given up on her._

_Her home was gone._

_Her future was empty._

_She was alone._

_And she was falling, spiralling down, untethered, hurtling faster and faster toward a green horizon that terrified h-_

Aevrienne came awake with a start. She lurched up, raising her left arm to shield her eyes out of habit. But for once, there were no harsh, mocking rays of sunshine. Instead, the vile spitting green of the Anchor flashed and she nearly cried out, flinging her arm away from her face.

 _Andraste’s fucking tits._ Gingerly, with her right hand this time, she scrubbed at her gritty eyes. As she blinked, the world slowly came into focus. Early morning light had thinned the deep darkness to grey shadows around her. Oh, thank the Maker, she was alone. She forced herself to her feet as quickly as she could. Joints screamed and muscles protested, and she inhaled sharply.

Yes.

Pain.

Focus.

Keeping her mind carefully blank, Aevrienne tugged her clothing back into place as much as possible until she was reasonably presentable. She needed to get herself cleaned up as discreetly and as quickly as possible.

Steeling herself, Aevrienne peered round the corner of the barn. She blew out a relieved breath. The grounds were virtually deserted. No one saw her cross the yard between the stable and the stairs leading up to the kitchen. Near-deafening birdsong covered any sound she made on the stone steps.

Every inch of her hurt. Her knees and elbows were stiff. Her scalp and back ached. It even hurt when she swallowed, the taste of semen still thick in her sore throat. Her stomach twisted as flashes of the pain and humiliation visited upon her the night before pushed into her thoughts.

But underneath it all, there was peace. There was no more shameful, burning need between her thighs. No heavy ache in her core, no hunger for touch and caress. No matter how Aevrienne loathed what she did last night… it was worth it.

Opening the door at the top of the stairs, she was dismayed to see that as early as it was, Cook was there, carefully building up the fires in each of the two stoves and the hearth. Aevrienne bit her lip, eyes down. Tried to move as quickly and silently as possible to the door at the other end. But of course, Cook saw her. Aevrienne’s insides withered, knowing how she must look to the older woman. It must be so obvious… she hung her head and went to pass her, but Cook raised her hand and Aevrienne froze.

Cook snatched a large mug off a shelf. In smooth, practiced motions, she plucked measures of dried blossoms and leaves from a few of the bunches of herbs that hung from the low rafters. Presently, she clicked her tongue and unceremoniously drowned them in boiling water that was already burbling in a kettle.

The older woman levelled Aevrienne with a glare from snapping brown eyes before handing her the mug carefully.

“Every. Drop.” Cook’s tone was serious, but not unkind. She didn’t release the mug right away. When Aevrienne met her gaze reluctantly, Cook continued. “Tomorrow morning as well. Bring the mug back then.”

Aevrienne’s face flamed. She nodded hastily and nearly stumbled in her urgency to leave, leave, leave. 

She sped through the dimly lit vaults to the stairs leading up to Skyhold’s main hall and slipped through the door at the top as silently as possible. Thank the Maker and his Bride, there was no one around, and Aevrienne made a beeline to her quarters, scarcely taking a breath until she reached the top of the stairs and set the piping hot tea on the tiny table next to the couch. 

Safely alone. She stripped quickly and efficiently. The old uniform Bull had gotten her to wear last night for their chat with the soldiers was now nasty with mud and obscene stains. There was no way to salvage it. She pitched it unceremoniously into the fire blazing in the large hearth dominating the room. The leather straps hissed as it curled in the flames and Aevrienne shivered. 

Stark naked, she retrieved a few cloths from her dresser before crouching stiffly beside the black cauldron of water next to the fireplace and sliding the heavy lid off. A smaller pot served as a makeshift sink. Kept so close to the blazing heat, the water felt deliciously warm on her skin, chilled and clammy from being outside all night. 

The routine of bathing – of soaping, scrubbing, rinsing, repeating – was soothing. She was so exhausted. She could probably have fallen asleep on the spot but for the stinging of various cuts and scrapes as the soapy cloth caught on them. 

Aevrienne took inventory of each one. 

Most were easily enough explained. Her fingers often looked worse for the wear thanks to the relentless exercises Dorian put her through every day. What had he said las week? Oh yeah… “My dear, as tempted as I am to discover for myself whether a demon could, in fact, laugh itself to death, I’m afraid I simply cannot allow this pathetic staff handling to continue.” To her eternal chagrin, Bull had been passing by and had caught her poorly-stifled giggles. His knowing wink had given her butterflies for hours.

Someday, she really needed to figure out how, exactly, Bull managed to wink with just one eye. 

Most of the other marks on her were already in places usually concealed. Aevrienne winced as she opened her bruised knees and reached between them with the hot, soapy cloth. Certainly the worst of the pain wasn’t even visible, anyway. She’d just have to be careful to walk normally. She made diligent, efficient sweeps along her inner thighs, cleaning the sticky mess off her skin just as she’d known she’d have to. But her emotions were pleasantly blunted to the fact. She felt very little beyond relief, pure and pervasive.

Cleaned and rinsed at last, she picked up her small mirror. There were indeed ugly stripes on her throat as she had thought, already deepening to a purple-black. Those would need to be covered for a while. Thankfully, some of the outfits Josephine and Vivienne had chosen for her appearances at Skyhold included some kind of cowl or scarf. 

She was starting to fade. Oblivion awaited her. But first… she sat down on her bed, legs crossed under her, and concentrated on drinking the tea Cook had made for her. It was bitter, but in a mild sort of way. It certainly tasted better than her mouth did. She recognized embrium flowers, a familiar base of elf root, and… fresh dirt? Her nose wrinkled. Surely not. She could identify not much else. But it was warm and soothing on her raw throat and she drank it all, gratefully. 

As she lay down, barely awake enough to pull the covers over her, she basked in the hush that swept over her entire body. As surely as Aevrienne loathed the things she did and what had been done to her, it was worth this clean emptiness, this quiet stillness inside her.

And when that awful, clawing need returned… when the hot, sick shame of sexual desire mounted in her until her nights were raw with it once more…

…she knew she would do it again.

Because _that_ pain… _that_ humiliation… is literally not something she can bear. 

The knowledge sat in her stomach like a rock as sleep dragged her under.

She would never be free. 


	6. Riverbed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “This tenderness comes as a surprise  
> Drinking where the riverbed was dry  
> Trees in the wind trembling with love”  
>   
>  _Sailor to Siren_  
>  Love Letter for Fire written by Sam Beam & Jesca Hoop

The fight was not going well. 

Dorian hastily flung a barrier over Aevrienne even as he neatly sidestepped a Despair Demon’s blast. _It wasn’t that Aevrienne was… **bad** at magic_, he thought. _She knew the basics, and her technique was, well, technical… Uh oh…_

Another demon joined the two that were already bearing down on Aevrienne.

A roar erupted from behind him and Dorian nearly jumped out of his skin. He managed to turn just in time to catch the flash of the sun on The Iron Bull’s great-axe as it swung through the air, cleaving through all three demons in a single arc. 

Aevrienne stood, frozen. She blinked through the gore spatters on her face and Dorian had to consciously close his mouth.

Bull whistled, long and low. “That was too close, boss.”

“Inquisitor!” Solas’ voice rang out in the sudden quiet. “Hurry! Seal the rift!”

Aevrienne shook herself out of her stupor and shoved the Anchor’s magic at the rift, barely resisting the temptation to cover her face as she did so. She may _feel_ like a lost child every single time she stepped outside the safety of Skyhold’s walls, but it really didn’t help matters to _act_ like it. 

She shuddered as the eerie magic rumbled along her arm before the rift snapped shut. How many was that? Five? Eleven? It didn’t matter. It would never feel right. There was just something so wrong about all of it.

She turned and almost slammed into Solas. She hadn’t noticed him coming up behind her. Solas steadied her briefly, hands on her arms, and met her gaze.

“Well done, Inquisitor. As I have said, you are growing more proficient at this. I understand though, that does not mean it’s any easier,” he spoke quietly. 

Aevrienne was unnerved by the expression in his eyes. Like he’d somehow heard her thoughts and was in saddened agreement. She managed a nod before he moved away. 

—//—  


Aevrienne crouched and reached into the water. They had waded into the shallows of the river to wash off the worst of the gore and grime the rift had left on them. It was, she realized, the same river where they had found the body of a woman a few weeks back. _No, not a woman. Hardly more than a girl. Betta_ , she remembered. Her name was Betta. She felt a little numb. In mere months, she had witnessed more things and done more things and learned more than she had in her entire life in the Circle. And at the same time, she’d also had less time to be alone, to be still, to process things, than she’d ever had. 

It was not a winning combination for Aevrienne. Already far less adept than her peers in the Inquisition at most things, even magic, the unceasing whirlwind of events and demands made it even harder for her. She’d once thought nothing could ever make her feel worse than what she’d been through in the Circle, but she’d been very wrong. Being the Inquisitor, badly, was so much worse. She huffed and scrubbed her hands roughly, trying hard not to notice the way the water reddened around her. 

Dorian appeared beside her almost silently, his movements characteristic of his feline grace. Aevrienne started, and then scowled, embarrassed. 

“How can you literally make no sound in the _water_ , for Andraste’s sake?” she snapped. 

Dorian arched an eyebrow coolly and crouched beside her. 

“Talent? Skill? Practice? Mostly sheer natural talent, I suppose,” he drawled good-naturedly. He’d brought a washcloth from his pack and swirled it in the water. He wrung it out and handed it to Aevrienne. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled. Her face was stiff with dried ichor, blood, and bits of… ugh. _Maker only knew_. Hastily, she scrubbed it off and rinsed the cloth, looking steadfastly at the far bank of the river as she did, so that she wouldn’t see anything floating in the water. 

_Please, Andraste_ , she thought. _Please let me keep my breakfast down._ She didn’t think there were many more things she could do to further tarnish her image in the Inquisition’s eyes, but she was pretty sure puking after a battle would be one of them.

“Here…” Aevrienne awkwardly thrust the cloth toward Dorian. “Um. Thanks.” She started to stand but Dorian tutted and shook his head.

“As ravishing as you would be no matter what you had on your face, there’s something to be said for letting your natural complexion shine. In other words,” he smirked at her teasingly, “you’ve missed a spot.”

 _What was he doing?_ She struggled to push back the panic gathering at the edges of her mind, threatening to close in as Dorian gently smoothed the damp cloth along her brow. She froze. She couldn’t look away from his face as he tended to her. Those achingly beautiful grey eyes, the sweeping lashes. That mouth… Desperately, she closed her eyes. 

The mouth she had been admiring pursed as Dorian frowned. He was used to people being flustered around him, of course. He was not, however, used to seeing fear on the faces of his admirers. 

“Done! Now let’s get that scarf off, there’s- Kaffas!” Dorian had barely touched it when Aevrienne flung his arm wide and shot to her feet, clutching the scarf to her neck. He stood too, concern furrowing his brow. 

“Inquisitor!” he exclaimed, staring.

Aevrienne’s eyes snapped and spat in fear and anger as she fought for composure, and the Anchor crackled suddenly.

“I’ll do it. I…” she broke off, realizing that the others had stood as well. Solas watched her warily, one hand poised to reach behind him. The Iron Bull studied her carefully. 

Aevrienne turned away from them and traipsed downstream, tucking the ends of the scarf in tightly. Shame scorched her cheeks. Could she not go five hours without making a fool of herself? Wasn’t it enough to be tongue-tied with the ambassadors and nobles? To constantly freeze and stumble in battle? To offend Vivienne, frustrate Cassandra, disappoint Leliana, and baffle Josephine?

She climbed up the gently sloping bank and slipped between the trees, feet sinking into loamy earth as she walked.

It would have been awkward to try and explain away the ugly bruises at her throat, sure, but it was going to be next to impossible to explain that little outburst. Dorian had been kind and gentle… Maker damn her eyes, _most_ of them were so kind and gentle. 

Furious tears stood hot and bright in her eyes. 

_Orneaux had been gentle._

_Orneaux’s fingers, lacing lightly through hers._

_Orneaux’s voice, soft in the darkness in the moments before sleep._

_Orneaux after years of hard hands, empty arms, and loneliness that cut to her bones._

And now, the yawning emptiness inside her cut deeper, ate at her, was swallowing her. 

Aevrienne sank to her knees in the soft green of the forest floor and hugged herself tightly. She bent until her forehead rested on her thighs, curling herself impossibly tight, frantic to stave off the pain. 

_Not now,_ she thought. _Oh Maker’s bride, not now._

—//—

The three men stood as the river played and eddied around their feet, watching the Inquisitor’s retreating back. 

Dorian was the first to recover. 

“Solas,” he said in a musing tone, “Just how thoroughly did you study the Anchor after you found our dear Inquisitor by the Breach?”

“Quite.” Solas said briefly. “Before she woke up, and ever since.”

“Of course,” Dorian acknowledged. “I do wonder, have you noticed… does it… affect her? Has it changed her?”

Solas shook his head. “If it had, such a change would not be apparent to any of us, having known her only after the Anchor. I would need to ask her if she herself felt she had been changed. However, I am inclined to think it has not. The mark exists within her, but not as a part of her.” He suddenly fell silent, as if he’d been about to say more but thought better of it. 

The Iron Bull’s trained ear picked up this little detail, noted it, and filed it away. He shouldered his great-axe. 

“Solas, you and Dorian should go on ahead to Direstone Camp. I’ll bring the boss along,” he said, starting in the direction she had gone.

“You?” Dorian didn’t bother to temper his incredulous tone.

“Your lack of faith wounds me, Dorian,” Bull chucked Dorian under the chin as he walked by him. “I promise, I’m positively irresistible.”

“Well, yes, I suppose you could call it that, given that she’s not likely to be able to resist if you sling her over your shoulder and drag her back,” Dorian huffed. 

“Exactly,” Bull flashed a grin at Dorian over his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first thing I’ve written since June of 2020. Last year was... rough. I hope my muse is back now. If you’re still reading, thank you. Truly.

**Author's Note:**

> Tags may change, title may change, chapters... yeah.


End file.
